


Close

by beekeepercain



Series: In Fewer Words [21]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-08
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 12:45:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2429336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beekeepercain/pseuds/beekeepercain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It seemed like the sort of a performance that Sam had never thought he'd participate in. Not like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





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Sam had never thought he'd come to this place, not with this being. Not with anything like him - not to feel this kind of arms, hands, lips, skin upon him. And sometimes, often, he realised that if it was strange for him, then it had to be almost impossible to the other: Gadreel had known nothing like this before, he'd never come close to what he now shared with Sam.  
His kisses had started out withdrawn and his touches had been barely brushes, unknowing if he was allowed further and always expecting pain in place of pleasure. He'd jumped at touch, he'd pulled back at the slightest threat of discomfort, and didn't even dare to breathe - when he did, he often still forgot to.

It was a strange kind of a play they put up to get through with it. There were rituals that had to be performed, certain patterns that had to be repeated, spells that were spoken in low voices through the veil of darkness from lips directly onto lips or skin. Paths were to be followed, established invisible trails of touch were essential to keep to, but the closeness that they shared was freedom in itself, a fulfilled promise, something that was worth the effort to return to.

They were both full of held-back strength; wired, tense bodies containing explosions, ready to react to imaginary dangers and false alarms, but lined with such gentleness that when the roles were heeded, both of them could almost feel redeemed of the fear and pain that kept them at edge. When their lips joined - when Sam's hips pressed against the angel's and his nails could finally rake red streaks over Gadreel's back without breaking the rules, without breaking Gadreel himself - the line had already been crossed and the play was ending and the climax was contained chaos where nothing else mattered, and wounds both fresh and older than either could remember seemed to heal and finally scar over. Scarce words escaped them, but they were spoken with relief and often through smiling lips in needy gasps and breathless breaking voices, and they were always crucial; none were wasted, and there were few things to say when they weren't important.

Sam had never thought this would be what he wanted, the one thing he'd return to because it completed him, but so it was. And if it meant so much to him, he could only imagine what it meant for Gadreel; to share the vastness of his loneliness with another who'd known the same, who'd suffered like him, but above all one who knew him like Sam did and still invited him in.


End file.
